Charmed and Dangerous (5 page)

General Pryor knew quite well that he hated work like this, Gavin thought. He had assigned him to this committee as a punishment, because Sophie Krelov continued to approach him at balls and evening parties and flirt outrageously. Gavin suppressed a smile. He had known, of course, that holding himself aloof would simply intrigue Sophie all the more. By not pursuing her, he had piqued her interest even further. But the general seemed to expect him to give her the cut direct, or some such foolishness.

The speaker had moved on to the issue of precedence. Gavin gritted his teeth. He imagined the fellow in the hands of Barbary pirates, dacoits from the Indian backcountry, tribes on the steppes of Asia. He had once seen a man sewn into a leather bag and dragged behind the mount of a nomad warrior. That would silence this idiot, he thought.

The speaker droned on. French was supposed to be the universal diplomatic language of the congress, but this man was among the committee members who spoke it execrably. This was a complete waste of time, Gavin thought. He needed to be out in the city talking to people, finding out what was going on. Instead, his life was plagued by irrelevancies like this meeting.

And Laura Devane.

Gavin stopped even pretending to listen and let his thoughts drift to the general's guest. She was more interesting than he had expected, Gavin acknowledged. So far, she seemed impervious to his slights and showed no signs of being driven off. It was annoying. He had never had much difficulty in getting females to do whatever he wished. Admittedly, his wishes usually tended in another direction, but not always. He had discouraged a number of women in his travels. Of course, they had been afflicting him with unwanted attentions, he admitted. Laura wasn't doing that. It was General Pryor who continually nagged him to join some party or outing. Laura scarcely seemed to care.

It was galling, he realized. The woman hampered his freedom. She upset his plans. And yet she remained singularly unaffected by their interactions. The time had come to end this farce. Laura Devane must be made to understand that he danced to no woman's tune and brooked no interference with anything he wished to do.

“You are looking very lovely this evening,” said Gavin as he led Laura onto the dance floor at the Austrian embassy ball.

Startled, Laura looked up at him. It was the first compliment he had ever offered her, and she didn't trust it for a moment.

“That gown is unusual. But then, your clothes are all quite elegant.”

She gazed down at the folds of her ball gown, fashioned of a silk that shimmered between bronze and deep green, depending on the light. She had been exceedingly pleased with the fabric and design from the moment she saw them. Looking at the gown now, she was filled with suspicion.

Gavin grasped her waist, and they began to dance, falling naturally, once again, into rhythm with each other. It was a waltz. Of course it was a waltz, Laura thought. A country dance or quadrille would offer him less scope to unsettle her.

“You're not usually so silent,” commented Gavin, turning her deftly at the end of the room.

The strength of his arm was palpable, and his hands—on her back and laced with hers—held an unnerving heat. He was a man who demanded notice, Laura thought. You couldn't ignore him, and it would always be a serious mistake to discount him. At the same time, he made it terribly difficult to keep one's wits about one. It was a devastating combination. “Your coat is very well cut,” she managed.

His eyes flickered, and one corner of his mouth turned up for a moment. “Thank you.”

Evening dress did particularly become him, Laura thought. And he wore it with unmatched ease. She felt a flutter in her midsection, and wondered if her dinner was about to disagree with her.

“Having established that we are both creditably dressed, perhaps we could move on to some other topic,” he added.

Always mocking, Laura thought. Did he speak seriously to anyone? To Sophie Krelov, perhaps? “Is Lord Castlereagh here tonight?” she asked him. “I haven't yet seen him.”

“I believe so.” Gavin turned his head to search for the chief of the English delegation at the congress. “He had planned to be.”

“He must be eager not to offend the Austrians.” Laura was also scanning the huge room.

“Indeed?”

Laura looked up at his surprised tone.

“And why should he be?” wondered Gavin.

“I assume he wants their support against Russia's demands,” she replied.

“Has the general been educating you?” he said, with predictable irony.

“The general shares the common opinion that women understand nothing about politics,” she responded tartly. “I believe he would sooner explain such matters to his horse.”

“Oh, I think he would speak to the dog first,” answered Gavin.

Laura stared up at him, not sure she had heard correctly. A spurt of laughter escaped her.

“Where do you get your information, then?” he added.

“I am quite capable of reading.”

“Reading?”

For some reason, the way he said the word made Laura recall the very unpolitical things she had read in the earl's private library. She flushed deep scarlet.

“Newspapers?” continued Gavin, looking fascinated at the reaction his remark had produced.

Unable to speak, she nodded.

“Perhaps not only the English papers? You seem to have a talent for languages.”

“I have been reading all the accounts of the congress that I can find,” she answered, regaining some measure of composure. “Hard as it may be for you to believe, I am deeply interested in what is going on here.”

“It isn't at all hard for me to believe,” he replied, in a tone that left Laura wondering whether he meant this as an insult.

“It is oppressively warm in here, isn't it?” he continued. In the next moment, he had whirled her into a tiny alcove and opened one of the French doors. Then they were somehow through it and on a flagstone terrace that flanked the building. A large garden spread into darkness on their left. “There, that's better.”

“Mr. Graham!” Laura struggled a little in his grasp. “Excuse me. I wish to go back in.” It was quite unsuitable for them to be outside alone.

“But it is such a beautiful night,” he argued, his arm adamant around her waist.

“On the contrary, it is quite chilly,” she said, trying to step out of it.

He swung her down two shallow steps into the garden. It was all Laura could do to keep her feet. Beyond the squares of light from the ballroom windows, the night was lit by a half-moon, which turned the landscape into a maze of black and silver. Gavin swept her along to a row of shrubbery, inky masses against the stars, which Laura recognized only when their needles brushed her arm.

“Mr. Graham,” she protested more loudly, “I ask you, as a gentleman, to—”

“You and the general make the same mistake in thinking I am a gentleman.” With a jerk, he pulled her tight against him, his lips capturing hers in a hard, inescapable kiss.

Laura stiffened in surprise and outrage. She pushed against his shoulders—with no effect. She wriggled, and managed only to make herself even more conscious of the contours of his body melded to hers. She had never been in such intimate contact with anyone. One of his hands had slid well below her waist and was pressing her even closer. The muscles of his chest caressed her breasts in the most amazing way. And his lips moved confidently on hers, rousing sensations that she couldn't evade.

It was unthinkable. It was intolerable. It was rather like some of the things she had read, Laura mused dizzily. One couldn't really understand, through mere words, how it felt, how one's whole being could suddenly turn traitor and melt like ice in a conflagration.

In the next instant, she was thrust roughly away and left swaying on her feet at arm's length.

“There,” said Gavin unevenly.

Laura could see his face only dimly in the light from the distant windows. She thought for a moment that he looked almost shaken. But in the next, the sneering mockery was back.

“Was that what you wanted?” he said.

“I…?”

“When you allowed me to bring you out here?”

“Allowed?”

“If the general suggested such a ploy, he is even denser than I realized.”

“You practically dragged me out of the ballroom,” Laura accused.

“Dragged? I think not.” He said it in a caressing tone that made Laura's face go hot.

“You…you bastard.”

“Tch. Is this language for a lady?”

Sweeping back her skirts, Laura kicked him in the shin with as much force as she could muster. “Be thankful I am a lady,” she said over her shoulder as she strode back toward the ball. “If I were not, that might have hurt a good deal more.”

His derisive laughter followed her up the steps onto the terrace. Laura turned to glare at him, and he raised one finger in a lazy salute. Her fists clenched, and blood pounded through her temples. If she had had a pistol at that moment, she thought, she would have killed him.

As she turned to go inside, Laura heard Gavin call, “Who's there?” She looked back. Was this another of his vile tricks? she wondered. But he wasn't following her. He was striding purposefully toward the back of the garden.

“Who are you?” he said.

Laura saw a large shadow detach itself from the garden wall and move quickly away.

“Stop!” cried Gavin, starting to run.

The shadow ran as well. But Gavin was obviously catching up to it when the figure stopped and made a rapid movement. With a sharp exclamation, Gavin clutched his shoulder and crumpled to the ground.

The shadow receded. There were scrabbling sounds, and then a thud from beyond the wall.

Laura stepped back toward the doors, which were now closed against the chill of the night. She searched the darkness, but she couldn't see anything. She started to open the door to fetch help.

There was a hoarse groan from the back of the garden.

She turned back and saw Gavin struggling upright.

“Don't call anyone,” he said in a stronger voice.

Hesitantly, Laura went down into the garden once more. “Why not? Are you all right?”

“Perfectly.”

As he straightened, he stumbled and made an involuntary sound of pain. Laura moved closer. When he swayed on his feet, she risked a few more steps. He was holding his upper arm, just below the shoulder. The hilt of a small knife showed there, and blood welled between his fingers and soaked his sleeve. “My God!”

“It's nothing.”

“Nothing? Are you mad? I must get someone.”

“No!”

His tone stopped her in midstride. She looked back. “You're wounded. I must—”

“You must mind your own damned business,” he interrupted.

“Don't be ridiculous. Wait right there.”

But Laura had not even reached the steps again when he grabbed her wrist hard enough to bruise. “You will not tell anyone what occurred here tonight,” he said.

Laura jerked away from him, smudges of his blood on her wrist. The blaze of his eyes made her back away.

“It is none of your affair. Forget what you saw.”

“But…” At a loss for words, Laura gestured toward the wall where the ominous shadow had disappeared and then at his bleeding arm.

“An interesting development,” commented Gavin.

“Interesting?”

He gazed at the wall, then raised his wounded arm experimentally. He winced and muttered a curse. “I won't be climbing tonight,” he added. His head moved as if he were examining every inch of the garden, looking for a way out.

“Not unless you wish to bleed to death,” said Laura tartly. “What is going on? I don't understand.”

“There is no need for you to do so. Go back inside.”

He spoke as if she were a highly unsatisfactory servant. Laura put her hands on her hips and glared at him.

“Someone didn't want to be followed,” he explained curtly. “Now go…”

“How can you act this way when you have a knife in your arm?”

“It isn't serious.”

“Really? You've been attacked so often you can tell without examining the wound?” she asked sarcastically.

“Yes.” He turned his back on her, moving slowly to the high brick wall surrounding the garden and beginning to walk along it, checking for a gate hidden in the dimness.

Laura watched him in amazement, trying to comprehend his behavior. He seemed a different man. The mockery was gone; his lazy detachment was revealed as a pose. He was intent and focused—utterly absorbed. It still seemed senseless to her to ignore the aid that waited a few feet away. But he clearly had no intention of communicating with anyone. She couldn't resist moving farther into the dark garden and following his progress around the wall. “Do you think it was a footpad?” she asked after a while.

“Will you go inside!”

“No.”

Gavin stopped and looked at her, his face pale in the light from the windows. “Mrs. Pryor will be looking for you,” he said.

“Yes, she may even come out here. The general too. They will make a great fuss.”

“What is it that you want?” he snapped.

“I want to know what happened.”

“Someone threw a knife at me and then escaped over the wall, and if I am to have any hope of discovering…”

“But why do you not summon the authorities? If it was a thief…”

“Thieves do not climb over walls into well-guarded houses when a ball is in progress,” he said with exaggerated patience.

“If it was not a thief, then who was it? Who would want to attack you?”

“This is none of your affair.”

“An enraged husband?” she asked, remembering the remarks of the Frenchwomen a few days ago.

“What?”

“Or a brother, perhaps?” Laura nodded to herself. “And that is why you don't want anyone to find out—because of the scandal.”

Gavin had finished his circuit of the garden wall. Now he came closer. “That's it,” he replied. “Crime of passion. Mustn't drag the lady's name in the dirt.”

His mocking tone was back, Laura noticed. He was speaking to her as if she were a child. She didn't believe a word of it.

“So you can understand,” he added. “This shouldn't be mentioned.”

“Your time must be fully occupied,” Laura answered dryly. “When you are not dragging me into dark gardens, you are compromising the reputation of some other lady.”

“I—”

“And rather clumsily too, if it is so obvious that her husband must stab you. I suppose that is why you are so often attacked?”

“There is no need for you to be jealous.”

“Jealous! You may be sure I do not envy any woman the sort of attentions I have endured from you.”

“Splendid! Why, then, don't you go back to the ballroom and let me be?”

“Let you be?” Laura couldn't believe it. “You are the one who forced me to come out—”

“I don't have time for this.” He brushed past her and strode onto the terrace.

“Are you going to walk through the ball with blood running down your arm?” wondered Laura, rather wishing to see this.

Gavin stopped with the door handle in his grasp. “Damn.” He frowned. “I have to get out of here.”

“To find the man who attacked you?”

“It's far too late for that, but there are inquiries…” He bit off the words as if he had not meant to say them and turned to give her a hard stare.

“You need to inquire
which
of the many husbands it might be?” she asked sweetly.

“You are an extremely irritating woman,” he replied.

“You are a completely exasperating man,” she responded.

They stood looking at each other in the squares of light from the crowded ballroom. Though his gaze was somewhat intimidating, Laura did not allow her eyes to waver. A shiver went through her—not of fear, but of mingled fascination and excitement. This was far more than she had imagined when she took the chance of coming to Vienna.